


what the what

by sophiesharp



Category: Actor RPF, Glee RPF
Genre: M/M, Nudity, Pancakes, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-11 01:50:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7870876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophiesharp/pseuds/sophiesharp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"And, man, I fucking knew you guys would love that thing! Best Christmas present ever.”</p><p>“Darren,” Chris tries.</p>
            </blockquote>





	what the what

**Author's Note:**

> my first - come hang at sharpthesophie on tumblr

When Chris wakes up, blurry-eyed with a crick in his neck, boyfriend snuffling into the sheets beside him, it takes a moment for him to figure  _exactly_ why he woke up.He catalogs the sunshine through the window that wasn’t in his eye, the half-hard dick that he feels nudging his thigh gently which definitely doesn’t belong to him, the lack of a demanding cat walking on his face. It’s baffling, and Chris almost chalks it up to natural causes; he literally reaches down to the not-his dick to touch, stroke, potentially suck (he hasn’t decided yet), when-

- _crash!_

It sounds like a pots and pans, and a bitten-off, colorful curse. 

Chris frowns.

When there’s nothing for a couple of seconds, he reaches under the bed to get- get- well, he was aiming for a baseball bat, or a crow bar, but he pulls out the extravagant double-ended vibrating dildo he got for his twenty-first as a  _present_ and decides it’s good enough.

Chris eases out of bed naked, not wanting to wake up his boyfriend (whose adorable face is even sweeter when he’s asleep) and still retaining the element of surprise. The bedroom door’s already open, so he creeps, dildo wielded, heading towards the kitchen. Just before he turns the corner, he pauses. If the intruder has a weapon, he’s going to run back to the bedroom and barricade himself in before he calls the police. With any luck, it’ll be some petty criminal looking to make a buck off the rich and famous (he winces internally; it's  _still_ a little uncomfortable).

He takes a deep breath, steels himself, then rounds the corner fast, hopefully able to stun the douche with nakedness, dildo ready to throw it or batter the  _bastard_ to death-

-and he  _freezes._

Darren is stood in his kitchen, staring at him. He’s stood in the open door of the fridge, having opened it with his feet. Around him, piles of flour and sugar and pans are strewn  _everywhere,_ and Chris thinks he sees chocolate sauce on the ceiling. Darren is in a pair of his tighter pants, and Chris thinks he spies eye-liner rimming his wide, wide,  _shocked_ eyes. He’s shirtless, naturally; in one hand is a batter-coated wooden spoon, the other holds a disgruntled-looking Brian still wearing his Halloween costume. Dangling from his mouth is a half-open packet of bacon. 

Chris blinks at Darren, who stares back. They’re frozen, unmoving.

Chris is suddenly  _very_ aware he isn’t wearing any clothes.

“Uh,” he says.

Somehow,  _strangely_ but ultimately unsurprisingly, that’s what snaps Darren out of it. “Oh, _hi!"_ he enthuses, dropping the cat - who streaks away, hissing (possibly to hide in the bathroom). "Didn’t think you guys would be getting up ‘til later,” he chatters, dragging out a carton of eggs and shutting the door with a bump from his ass. “Seemed to be having  _too_ much fun last night, if you catch my drift, and when I say 'drift’, I mean you were having hot, wild monkey sex on the balcony.”

“Darren,” Chris says, “you’re in my kitchen.”

Darren beams, having dropped the packet of bacon into a frying pan. Chris really hopes he takes the bacon  _out_ the plastic before cooking it. “Well  _done,_ Christopher! I was worried about your eyesight, especially considering the time you spend hunched over your computer, but they seem to be fucking ace!”

“Why,” Chris tries again, “are you in my kitchen.”

“Well,” Darren says, stirring the batter, “Mia and Chord had a really, really chill idea to come 'round to you for breakfast, but they had some stuff to pick up first, 'cause I said, like, you fucking  _never_ have hot chocolate, man, or croissants, so I came 'round first to make the pancakes and bacon and coffee, 'cause I still have the key you gave me. But, I didn’t want to wake you up, because hot monkey sex, dude-”

“What the  _hell,"_ says a voice from behind him.

Chris doesn’t turn, but he imagines Will is equally as naked as he and just as confused. "Darren,” he tries weakly, “is making us breakfast.”

“Chris,” Will says in a strangled voice, “why are you holding The  _Monster?”_

Chris looks down at his hand - still holding the damned toy - and looks up at Will. “Uh, no bat,” he says.

Will nods faintly. “Of course,” he replies, “because a double-ended dildo is a natural replacement.”

“ _Vibrator,_  not some flimsy dildo, what do you take me for?"Darren sing-songs from the stove top. "And,  _man,_ I fucking  _knew_ you guys would love that thing! Best Christmas present ever.”

“Darren,” Chris tries.

“No point resisting, is there?” Will says, and Chris turns, because he sounds and looks quite put-out, the slick jut of his pink lower lip poking out, and Chris has the sudden urge to pull and suck on it until it goes purple. It appears as though Will catches onto this train of thought, as his eyes them trip over Chris’s collerbone, the dark patches where he left bruises last night with fingers and mouths and  _other_ things less innocent. Chris rotates his wrists slowly, deliberate enough to draw attention to the raw areas there, too. It aches still, just there to send tingles down his spine and the crawling on his skin, the urge to drop to his knees just there and suck Will down until he’s fucking Chris’s mouth all on his own-

-“Uh,” Darren coughs politely, “I thought the wild monkey fuck was last night.”

Will licks his lips, and Chris  _feels_ his eyes get darker,  _Christ._ “Well,” he says, drawling into a lower register that Chris associates with handcuffs. “Last night  _was_ fun.”

“Uh,” Chris says.

Will smirks, slowly edging closer. “But it  _was_ tamer than what I have in mind now.”

Chris just wants to  _go, right here-_

 _-“Guys,"_ Darren hisses, "blowjobs and kinky sex is for fucking bedrooms, only, go do it there, and shut the door, I can’t have you two messing with my cooking style-”

“Keep the dildo,” Chris tells Darren absently as Will drags them back to their room, mind already on other things. “We’ll be fine for now.”

And they shut the door on Darren’s wild cry of “ _vibrator!”_


End file.
